Cost of Honor
by Meraki164
Summary: What price can you put on the defense of a brother? After a brutal attack, the life lessons of a certain ninja vigilante are put to the ultimate test. *Companion volume to Links


***Greetings. If you're familiar with my short teaser for Links, this is going to look dreadfully familiar. Cost of Honor is connected to Links by identical events, which end with different outcomes. I have never worked on a project like this one before, but the chance to play with different perspectives and possibilities appealed to me. Neither story has actually been written. But since the preview for Links is out, I decided I would release this first chapter too. I am going to work on the pair of fics simultaneously, and will release them at the same time as well. I am determined not to exceed a dozen chapters for either. So if you want another perspective after reading this, hop over to Links. Thanks for reading. I don't own the TMNT.**

* * *

Running his shell off to find a power box wasn't Donatello's favorite part of _any_ altercation. He was extremely irked about being forced to abandon his brothers inside a fight to begin with. The "small' inside job on the laboratory ended up being anything but, and their hands had been full for several minutes trying to contain the sinking ship overwhelmed with rats.

_Leo probably won't admit it, but I know he wasn't expecting this many enemies. _The thought of the others surrounded by so many hardened gang bangers made the sixteen-year-old pull up short. He looked over his shoulder anxiously, hating the the fact that he couldn't hear anything from the level beneath his.

_It's okay. They're together – the others will be fine. I have to get the rest of the electricity restored, so the safety features in the labs will boot back up. A lot of their samples aren't going to last long without refrigeration any-_

Donny instinctively dodged from a low whistle, avoiding a knife blade which glanced off the wall a couple feet from where he stood. He sent a dirty look to the young man peering around a corner at him, grasping a second knife in his trembling hand.

The purple-masked turtle was briefly tempted to dare him to throw that one too. Instead, he exploded from the ground to engage the youth before he could call reinforcements to that floor.

The second blade whizzed through the air, but somehow the teen's aim was worse than before, falling so short of Don that all he had to do was harmlessly step over the weapon.

"Jack-"

The stranger got one syllable off before Donatello caught him by the collar and pinned him against the wall.

"Hey, kid. I don't want to kill you, but I prefer a little peace and quiet to work in. Do me a favor, and take a load off."

The guy looked a little younger than him, and he wasn't the cooperative type. A second screech erupted from the teen, prompting the turtle to clap a hand over his mouth, and direct an open-palm strike to the boy's carotid artery on the side of his neck. When the kid pitched forward, he was kind enough to catch him.

Don took a moment to yank a few zip-ties off his belt, and used them to restrain the unconscious figure. His eyes tracked right and left warily while he tightened each one. _This guy wasn't alone up here. He was calling out to someone, who's probably near enough by to hear..._

He noticed the faint beam of what was probably a flashlight coming from an open door a couple yards down the hall. Don evened out his breathing while he silently approached the room, tightening the straps of his bag as a sort of nervous twitch. He halted again when he saw the placard on the door.

_Electrical Engineering. This looks like the place I need. _

He remained still a few seconds longer, listening for activity on the other side of the wall. When he heard nothing, the turtle gave the door a tiny push inward, and spotted the flashlight on the floor of the empty room.

_Maybe he's the one who tampered with the box?_

Donny sent another cautious glance around the space, paranoia flaring in spite of the calm atmosphere. _It's not calm where my brothers are fighting. I have to finish this before those suckers breech this floor._

He clicked on his own pen-light to examine what he was dealing with in the junction box, and cursed under his breath at what he found. The breakers hadn't merely been flipped off; it was clear that at least a couple were fried. _I'd better catch Leo up real quick._

Don pulled out his phone to place the call, then stuck it back into the front pocket of his bag while adjusting his earpiece.

"Can you make this fast please?" Leonardo didn't waste time with a greeting, but the amount of noise in the background had Donatello wondering if he could get through at all.

"Can you hear me okay?"

"Yes, I hear you! How long, Donny?"

"It's gonna take a little time, Leo. There are several broken circuits-"

"But you can get the power back?"

"Yeah, I can fix it, but I need you to stall a little longer. I'll call you."

"Okay – just get back to me when you have some good news. Our hands are _really_ full down here."

The call with the blue-masked turtle ended abruptly, and Donny drew his flashlight up higher for a closer look. He reached into his back to select a couple tools, then deftly removed the terminal screws from the outer plate. He swapped his screwdriver out for a pair of needle nose pliers to expose the wiring underneath.

Don had to be careful not to touch any of the live wires or breakers, while focusing on the ones which were obviously dead. _Really ought to shut down the _rest_ of the power before I do this, but then _all_ the defenses will be down for-_

The sound of a phone ringing nearby made Donny jerk, and his tool almost slipped in the same motion. The turtle's heart leaped into his throat from the near deadly mistake, and then the realization that someone else was extremely close by.

His position in the box was precarious enough that he didn't want to make any more sudden moves. Pliers remained around the breaker he'd been about to remove, while he drew his bo with the other hand, turning the direction from which the sound had come.

The startling force with which a closet door was flung open left Donatello wishing he'd swept the room before beginning the project – especially when a gunshot followed. Fortunately the aim of the weapon was off, and he rapidly ducked under the projectile so that it buried into the drywall. The evasive maneuver caused his other hand to slip inside the junction box, in what was the worst mistake he'd made so far that night.

An instantaneous _pop _registered in his ears, but it was overpowered by the electrical surge that contracted every muscle in his body at once.

* * *

Tony was incapable of controlling his breathing while he emerged from the closet behind Jackson. He swore loudly, nudging the Phantom's body with his foot. The freak's dead weight already looked like a corpse.

"What the hell? Did you shoot it, or not?"

Jackson laughed. "Nah, man. I think he electrocuted himself. He might have done the job for me." He bent down to check the creature for a pulse. "But I can still finish it. You're gonna help me make history, Tony."

His friend leveled the handgun on the prone turtle's head.

Tony came to his side rapidly. "You get to shoot him, but what about me, Jackson?"

"You forgot to turn your phone off, idiot. You're lucky this worked out as well as it did. I'm gonna pass the initiation for sure."

"I want in too!"

"You have to find your own kill, Tony. This one's all mine."

"But that's not fair!"

"_Life_ ain't fair. Don't complain about it to me."

"Can't you just-"

When another ringtone went off, Tony almost panicked. His phone, however, had already been silenced.

Jackson searched around the other side of the freak to retrieve the ringing device from a bag strewn on the floor. "Would you look at this thing?" He studied the phone closer under the beam of a flashlight. "It'll probably be worth hundreds on the street, after it's been flashed."

Jackson chuckled again while peering over the contents of the bag. When he set the distraction aside and raised the gun barrel a second time, Tony was struck by sudden inspiration.

"Jackson, share him with me. It won't cost you anything to let me have a piece of the Phantom too."

"He's _mine_, Tony. Unless you wanna fight me for him." Jackson grinned wickedly.

Even if the gun wasn't in play, Tony knew he was outmatched by the sheer violence his friend was willing to dish out. "I don't wanna fight you, Jackson. I want to fight _for _you. You let me take a little credit for this kill, and I'm your man forever. No one else will come before ya. My loyalty belongs to you."

From Jackson's quirked eyebrow, he could tell he'd piqued his interest. "You're my guy, Tony? You'll do whatever I tell you?"

He nodded eagerly. "Let me get a hand on him. Will you record it too?"

"If you record me shooting him afterward."

"Deal."

Tony reached for the blade strapped to his side, and Jackson caught his wrist.

"No knife. I don't want a ton of blood until I blow his head off. You have two minutes to beat him, and I'm about to start recording."

Tony grinned down at their unconscious enemy, chortling at his turn in luck.

"Go, Tony!"

In a flash, he went from elated to ruthless, focusing the brunt of his first kick on the turtle's face. He alternated between stomping and punches, reveling when the first blood was drawn.

Cackling, Jackson egged him on. "Move down, move down! Crush his ribs!"

Tony drove his foot into the hard, unrelenting surface of his chest, wincing at what felt more like armor. "I don't know if I can!" He snorted, still entertained by the prospect of trying.

"Pound him as hard as you can!"

Tony jumped on the turtle, applying his full weight while he came down on his stomach in a motion that made the teen feel like a jack rabbit. It caused Jackson to laugh harder so he repeated the hop, adding in lashes toward softer tissue with his fists every time he landed on top of the Phantom.

"This is great, Tony! They're gonna love it. We should hang 'im up after I shoot him. The gang will be _begging _us to join."

"_Donny!" _

A bellow rang out from a distance, causing Tony to pause. He looked up at Jackson from the floor. "What was that?"

His friend paused the recording and broached the door. Jackson stiffened after a moment and immediately backed away.

"It's coming, another of the freaks!"

"Two for the price of one?" Tony crowed hopefully.

Jackson ducked out into the hall, and the next thing Tony heard was gunfire. The shots were followed by a tremendous roar, which sounded like it was getting louder by the second. His friend unloaded several more bullets from the doorway, each shot appearing more haphazard than the last.

"Man, what are you doing?" Tony implored.

Jackson swore. "The thing is still coming!"

"Then shoot it!"

Jackson tried again, only to lower the weapon with another curse. "I'm out of ammo!" He looked around the room wildly, then snagged the turtle's bag. "Run, moron! Run!"

The sound of the battle arriving at their doorstep made Tony afraid to leave the room, but there was no other way to escape than that which they'd come. His friend darted into the hall, and Tony reluctantly charged after him.

Outside, his eyes automatically went to the turtle running toward them like a raging bull. A scream erupted from deep in his chest, and terror provided new adrenaline with which to chase Jackson down.

"Come _back_ here, ya little cretin!"

Tony chanced another glance back to see the Phantom only slightly slowed down by bodies in his path. He pressed the small advantage of a head start with Jackson to race into the room four doors down. He knew it possessed outdoor access from the window they'd used to get inside.

"Lock the door!" Jackson shouted, running for the window.

Tony pressed in the button on the handle, but didn't expect much from the flimsy obstacle. He hurried to join his friend, to discover Jackson cussing and struggling with the window.

"Move, move!" Tony urged. He pressed both hands against the glass, jimmying the pane free at the same time as their door came under assault.

The window barely cleared the halfway mark when Jackson shoved him from behind.

"Get out, Tony!"

He squirmed through the opening so fast that he lost his balance, face-planting on the opposite landing. Tony rolled over in time to see Jackson make it part of the way through, only to be yanked backward.

"Give it up, runt! You ain't leaving, so let go of the bag, NOW!"

Curses rolled off Jackson's tongue while he struggled to get free. Tony picked himself up and went back to the window to help.

"If you _ever_ wanna walk again, let go of my bro's stuff! Put it down!"

Tony _wanted_ to save his friend. He also would have liked to run screaming in the other direction. He reached back through the window to catch his friend's sweatshirt, but the Phantom had a firm grip of the teen's lower half.

Suddenly remembering his _own_ bag, Tony leaped to scoop it off the ground. He yanked out the heavy, paper-wrapped bottle he'd been saving for later, and lunged back at the window.

"RAPH!" A nearby cry communicated near panic. "I need you now!"

The distraction proved to be exactly what Tony needed. In the split second that the turtle turned his head, he chucked the magnum bottle at the Phantom's arm, ending in a shower of glass and alcohol.

The turtle lost his grip in the melee, and Jackson jumped through the window with a cackle. Then the turtle ducked his head outside too, and for a terrifying instant, Tony thought he was coming to kill them. Instead, it looked backwards with clear aggravation.

"Go on, freak!" Jackson challenged. "Your daddy's calling you!"

Tony knew it was the wrong move the moment words left his mouth. The pissed off creature lunged through the opening and caught Jackson's leg.

"Now you're gonna pay, you little bastard!"

Tony's life flashed before his eyes, but after a beat, the turtle strangely released Jackson like he was a hot coal. His mouth dropped while their enemy backed up through the window and disappeared from sight. "What the hell..."

Jackson upright himself, laughing gleefully. "C'mon, we gotta meet the others!"

Tony sent his friend a sidelong glance while they descended toward the ground from the fire escape. Jackson's mood was way too good for having missed out on killing a Phantom in easy reach.

"Man, that was intense," Tony said guardedly. "I thought he was gonna rip us apart!"

Jackson clapped his shoulder. "You had my back – and that means you have _my_ loyalty too." The young man paused to produce a wallet from the stolen bag. "Yes, he has a card! We're gonna replace your beer, Tony."

He laughed nervously in response. "I can't believe you wouldn't give up his stuff."

"Tony, check it out." Jackson held the bag open for him to peek at expensive-looking equipment inside. "This is a pay day for us, and I still have the video of you pulverizing him. It's gonna count for something."

"Yeah, but what about you?"

"You can tell Savage I put him down first, and let you clean up like the good friend I am. That's what happened, right?"

Tony nodded at once. "Yup. You took him down."

Jackson extended a fist, and he willingly bumped it. "You listen to me, and I'll take care of you too, Man. We're brothers before any gang."

"Brothers," he agreed. "Are you hurt at all?"

"Nah, I'm good. Wish the freak carried more cash. He's got maybe fifty bucks here? At least I'll make more than that off the rest of his stuff."

"Don't just pawn it off," Tony advised. "You find the right guy, and they'll probably pay more. Where's the video? Can I see it?"

Jackson handed the phone over after cuing up the recording. Tony snickered over the sight of himself trying to beat up the turtle, relieved that it looked better than it'd felt at the time. He wasn't positive of how badly he'd hurt the Phantom, but the replay's graphic nature made him feel better.

"It's great," Jackson repeated. "They're gonna love this."

The flare of a lighter greeted them from the darkness of the alley they'd emerged into. "I'm not seeing much to love at the moment," Savage drawled dangerously.

"We did our job!" Jackson protested. "Kept the power off. Then one of those Phantoms chased us down, and we had to split."

"Which part am I supposed to love?"

Tony held up the phone proudly. "We took another one out, Savage. Jackson put him down first, and let me finish him. Look – it's right here."

Savage plucked the device from his grasp and silently surveyed the entirety of the video. Tony squirmed uncomfortably, waiting for a sign of approval.

The leader finally flicked away part of his cigarette and laughed. "That's not bad. Not bad at all. We'll have fun rewatching this about five hundred times." He spared the pair a grin. "The job didn't go like we hoped, but that ain't on you two. I have to clear it with a couple partners, but I think it's safe to welcome both of you to the Dagos."

* * *

The orange-masked turtle snarled with what could only be described as an animalistic rage. Finding his brother unresponsive was a horrible complication when they were badly outnumbered, and missing Raphael to boot. He was trying to figure out how badly Don was hurt with the sparse medical knowledge he possessed, but he could barely get a hand on the purple-masked turtle.

It was hard to do anything when individuals kept pouring into the room, like lemurs hell-bent on jumping off a cliff. They were all committing suicide as far as Michelangelo was concerned. _No one_ was getting close to Donatello again if he had anything to do with it.

Frustration was rising so high that his blows were increasing in fervor, repelling one invader after another. He didn't care how young or stupid they were: everyone was going down hard.

Mike felt the wind of something approaching from behind. He swung a nunchuck while whipping around to face the idiot who thought he could sneak up on him. He lashed out angrily toward the length of pipe rushing toward his head, first capturing it from the young man's grip, and then hurling the weapon in the air.

The turtle leaped to catch the pipe in his free hand, and used it to smack the teen across the midsection.

"Do you like that?! Do you?" He sent a final devastating kick to the teen's stomach, flinging his attacker against the wall with a low groan.

"Be a good thug, and stay down."

Michelangelo heard footsteps, grunts, and blows nearby, but took the half a moment of rest to get a closer look of his brother. His head jerked around at a shout which definitely belonged to Leonardo, and indicated pain. _I'm gonna come back to help ya, bro, but I have to see Donny..._

He bent lower to listen for Don's breathing when he didn't feel his chest moving. Mike couldn't hear anything. Desperately he probed his brother's plastron, looking for signs of life. _Don is okay – he has to be!_

He was so caught up in the frenetic search, he didn't notice himself being surrounded again. It wasn't until a fist came inches from his face that Mike fixed on new assailants, and instantly ducked out of range.

Gritting his teeth from intense fury and anxiety, he pummeled the closest one with a nunchuck across the chest which flipped him head over heels. He turned on the other two with an aggression that may have been able to rival Raphael at his worse.

Determination to finish the teens and help his brother lent even more power to his style than usual. He wasn't interested in showing mercy to anyone at the moment; they needed to get the shell out of his way.

When he was finally able to bend over Donny again, he confirmed his brother had no pulse, and wasn't breathing. Without hesitation he straddled the older turtle and started performing a rough version of CPR.

It was one of the few techniques Splinter and Don had drilled into all of them, yet knowing _how_ to do it didn't lessen his temptation to panic. There was no immediate reaction from his brother, but he had no idea how long it could possibly take to get him back. He hummed along with the motion, not because he was happy or relaxed; it was simply to keep the correct tempo while he pumped. Don had given them the trick to help time things out.

"C'mon, Donny," he begged. "Just come back, and I'll never make you fix anything again! Breathe!"

A particularly loud crash made him reach for a fallen nunchuck, even as he scrambled to check Donatello's pulse again. As luck would have it, the noise was connected to Raphael barging into the room, and flattening someone else who'd just cleared the doorway.

The orange-masked turtle leaped to his feet. "Raph, quick! You have to do CPR!"

His older brother looked aghast. "Me? Mikey, I can't-"

"You're stronger than I am! Get down here – he isn't breathing!"

Raph's posture screamed reluctance while he raced over. "Mike, you keep going! Those guys are ganging up on Leo. I don't know how much longer he's gonna last! I won't let anything else get in this room."

"I'll help Leo!" Mike asserted. "You get on Donny! Do you really wanna stand here and argue about this while he's _dying?"_

"No," Raph croaked.

"Then move it!"

The red-masked turtle crashed to the floor by Donatello, at the same time as two young men ran through the door.

Mike saw a gun on one of them and launched into a tornado kick, snapping his head back with a disturbing violence. At least, it normally would have disturbed him. Teeth bared while he spun at the next youth, connecting a nunchuck with his shoulder.

The dull thud of a bat hitting the floor was followed by the teen's body, twisting unnaturally from the punch which connected with his chin.

Michelangelo still heard a surge coming, and was preparing to meet it when Raphael suddenly shouted after him.

"I don't know if it's working! I'm not sure I can do this! Mike, I need you!"

"I've had just as much experience as you!" the younger turtle bellowed back over his shoulder.

He didn't want to look at his brother's broken body, or to accept that it might be too late for Donny. As seconds ticked by, it seemed like he might have no say in the matter.


End file.
